


A Princess in Skyrim

by javertthejollywriter



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, LoliRock (Cartoon)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javertthejollywriter/pseuds/javertthejollywriter
Summary: Iris spent her entire life in the village of Helgen until one day, everything changes.





	1. Unbound

Wooden wheels on a cobblestone road. The sound etched itself in Iris’s mind. How long had they been on the road? Last she remembered, it had been dark, but the bright light nearly blinded her as she blinked her eyes open. Craning her stiff neck, she looked around and recognized the surrounding woods. She was almost home.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake,” said the young Stormcloak Nord across from her, a small smile on his face. Iris vaguely remembered him from the skirmish - or, at least she thought she did. The whole mess was a blur. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

“Yeah, really stepped in it this time,” Iris huffed, tugging at her bindings. With no luck, she sighed and took in the sights around her. Three others sat in the cart: across from her were two Nords, one in a Stormcloak uniform and one in rags like her; beside her an older Nord man who was both bound and gagged.

“That’s putting it lightly!” the civilian Nord spat. “Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.” He turned to Iris. “You and me, we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief,” the Stormcloak said.

“Shut up back there!” shouted the guard driving the carriage.

A brief silence fell over the prisoners. “What’s wrong with him, huh?” the thief hummed as he nodded to the man sitting beside Iris. Unlike the other prisoners, he wore neither rags nor a uniform, but a rich fur cloak and a gag around his mouth.

“Watch your tongue!” the Stormcloak scolded. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

Iris’s eyes widened as she stared at the man. Never in her her life did she imagine she would be sitting next to royalty. If her instinct was right, however, this would be her last chance.

“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?” the horse thief stuttered. “You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?“

“I don’t know where we’re going,” the blond sighed, “but Sovngarde awaits.”

He and the thief continued to prattle on, but Iris didn’t listen to them. As the familiar buildings of Helgen rolled closer, Iris felt her heart race. Would Aunt Hellen be there? Would she get to say goodbye?

“This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here,” the Stormcloak mused. “Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.”

“She is,” Iris replied, letting out a nervous smile. “I prefer her snowberry wine, but it’s hard to find those around here.”

He chuckled. “Wish I could have tried it.” A pause followed as he gazed over the surrounding soldiers. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

Iris recognized the faces that began to gather around; she recognized friends she’d shared a drink with after a long day’s work; she recognized the little boy, Haming, who she once saved from drowning in the river. Mara’s mercy, a child shouldn’t have to watch an execution. The carriage suddenly jolted to a stop, knocking the four prisoners forward.

“Get these prisoners out of the cart!” the Imperial captain barked from the lead carriage. “Move it!”

“Why are we stopping?” The thief’s voice shook as he frantically looked about.

The soldier, however, kept a calm demeanor. “Why do you think? End of the line.” He stood. “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

“No! Wait!” he begged, climbing out of the cart. “We’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.” The blond Nord rolled his eyes.

The thief didn’t listen, however, turning to Ulfric Stormcloak. “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

The prisoners formed a gaggle around the Imperial soldiers, and Iris craned her neck to scan the gathering crowd of onlookers. Would she see Aunt Helen’s face? A part of her prayed that she would not be there, that she wouldn’t have to face the death of her only niece. Another, more selfish part of Iris hoped she would be there, just to say goodbye.

“Step towards the block when we call your name,” the captain shouted as another Imperial officer stood by her side. “One at a time.”

“Empire loves their damn lists,” the young Stormcloak scoffed, and Iris could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

The Imperial beside the captain opened a scroll and began to read. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.” The Jarl walked to the chopping block without even a hint of hesitation. “Ralof of Riverwood.” The soldier beside Iris followed in suit. “Lokir of Rorikstead.”

The thief approached the captain instead. “No, I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” Before the captain could give a response, the man took off running.

“Halt!” the captain called after him.

“You’re not going to kill me!” Lokir cried as he continued to run.

“Archers!” The twang of flying arrows filled the air, and the thief was dead before he hit the ground. “Anyone else feel like running?”

With the distraction over, the man continued to read from the list, but he looked to Iris first. “Wait. You there, Step forward.” Iris obeyed, taking a few careful steps forward. He squinted at her, scrutinizing every feature of her face. “Who are you?”

Before Iris could open her mouth, a familiar voice cut her off. “Iris?” She turned, and eyes widened at the sight of her Aunt Ellen rushing forward. “Iris, what’s going on?”

“Stand down, citizen!” The captain held out a hand and Ellen froze only a few feet away. “This is Imperial business.”

“You know this prisoner?” the man with the list asked, motioning to Iris.

“Prisoner? What are you talking about?” she gasped, clutching a hand over her heart. “My niece is no Stormcloak! You can’t do this!”

He turned back to the captain. “What should we do? She’s not on the list.”

“Forget the list,” the captain replied. “She was with the Stormcloaks. She goes to the block.”

Ellen scream pierced harsher than the winter’s wind. “No, you can’t!”

“Aunt Ellen, please!” Iris finally spoke up. She tried to summon the strongest smile she could. “It’s okay. I’ll be in Sovngarde soon. I’m not afraid.” A lie, but if it could spare her aunt a bit of suffering, it was warranted.

“Oh Iris…” Ellen’s voice came ragged and strained, the tears flowing freely from her eyes.

“Follow the captain, Iris,” the Imperial said, with something in his voice that may have been sympathy.

Iris took a shaky breath and followed. With every step, the weight on her shoulders crushed her down further and further. Would an Imperial be allowed in Sovngarde? What would it be like? Would her parents be there?

As she followed the other prisoners, she caught sight of an older Imperial man standing before Jarl Stormcloak. “Ulfric Stoamcloak,” he said, folding his arms. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” Only grunts came as the Jarl’s response, but Iris guessed some form of cursing was involved. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.”

A noise in the distance rang out, like the unholy offspring of a beast’s roar and the thunder’s crashing.

“What was that?” one of the Imperials asked.

“It’s nothing,” the general dismissed. “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius,” the captain replied, nodding before turning to the priestess that stood beside the chopping block. “Give them their last rites.”

The priestess stepped before the prisoners and raised her hands before speaking. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-”

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with!” One of the exasperated Stormcloaks took it upon himself to approach the block himself, willingly kneeling with his head in position.

“Ah- as you wish,” the priestess replied, taken back.

Before the executioner could get the axe ready, the soldier spoke again. “Come on, I haven’t got all morning.” In the brief time it took the axe to line up and swing, the man had one last defiant word: “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

Iris couldn’t look; the sound of the axe hitting the wood was bad enough.

“You Imperial bastards!” one of the other prisoners screamed.

“Justice!” a man from the crowd shouted.

“Death to the Stormcloaks!” a woman added.

“As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof sighed.

“Next, the renegade Imperial! ” the captain ordered, pointing to Iris. Just as she stepped forward, that same monstrous roar rang from the sky. Iris scanned the sky, unable to tell where the noise was coming from.

“There it is again,” the Imperial soldier said. “Did you hear that?”

“I said, next prisoner!” the captain ordered.

He sighed. “To the block, Iris. Nice and easy.”

No more distractions. Iris took a deep breath, her hands shaking in their bindings. Her heart thudded in her ear with each heavy step towards the chopping block. The blood from the previous prisoner soaked her footwraps as she stepped over the lifeless corpse. Knees to the ground. Head on the wood. Iris’s pendant splayed before her eyes. Funny, her first memories were of playing with the pink crystal heart; it had been her first gift from Aunt Ellen and now it would be her last sight. Just as she expected the world to go black, the pendant began to glow a faint pink. “Huh?” The light distracted her from the cacophony that boomed around her.

“What in Oblivion is that?!”

“Sentries! What do you see?”

“In the clouds!”

Iris tore her gaze away from the pendant to the tower looming above her as a creature descended from the sky, enormous as a mountain and black as a moonless night.

_“DRAGON!”_

The dragon opened it’s mouth and let out a deafening cry. In that instant, the peaceful blue sky turned into a fiery inferno. Iris sprang to her feet as molten rock rained down. A hand grabbed the back of her tunic, yanking her away just as a rock plummeted onto the chopping block.

“Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof called, grabbing Iris’s elbow and dragging her towards one of the keep towers. Iris could barely keep on her feet as she scanned through the chaos for any sign of Aunt Ellen. Before she knew it, the fire was shut away by the walls of the tower.

“Wait!” Iris cried, jerking away from Ralof’s grasp as the door shut behind them.

“Jarl Ulfric!” Ralof called. “What is that thing? Could the legend be true?”

“Legends don’t burn down villages,” the jarl said before turning to the others that had gathered in the keep. “We need to move, now!”

“No! I have to get back out there!” Iris frantically pulled at her bindings as she tried to pry the door open. A pair of arms grabbed her waist and yanked her away from the door.

“Are you mad?!” Ulfric barked, planting Iris on the ground a good distance from the door. “You’ll be slaughtered!”

“We can’t just leave them to die!” she spat back.

“And how do you plan to attack a dragon?”

“I…” Iris paused. The jarl was right, she knew that, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could be doing more.

“Up the tower, with me!” Ralof grabbed Iris’s elbow and pulled her up the stairs. Iris kept on her feet as they climbed the staircase, but the glow from her pendant caught her eye again.

“Wait!” She pulled Ralof to a stop just as the stone before them imploded in a fiery explosion. The dragon’s head emerged through the debris, breathing a stream of fire into the tower. The heat scorched her skin as she and Ralof stood just outside the reach of the flame. When the inferno stopped and the dragon flew away, Iris and Ralof looked through the hole in the tower. Below them stood an inn with half the roof blown off.

“Jump through the roof and keep going!” Ralof shouted. “Go! We’ll follow when we can!”

“Good luck,” Iris said to him before turning towards the inn. With a deep breath, she lept from the tower and landed hard on the wood below. “Aurg!” She buckled over from the pain in her shins and landed on her elbow. Slowly, Iris pulled herself up and trudged down the stairs. Looking through the splintered wood walls, she couldn’t recognize the Helgen she knew and loved through the immense damage.

“Iris!”

Through the noise, she heard a familiar voice call her name. Iris looked up and saw Ellen cowering in the shelter of one of the more intact buildings.

“Aunt Ellen!” Iris called back. Despite the pain shooting through her legs, Iris ran to her. Not fast enough. Another meteor crashed from the sky, collapsing the building.

_“IRIS!”_

_“NO!”_ The world around her fell silent. The colors faded away. She didn’t even realize she was screaming. The fabric of her shirt tightened around her chest and yanked her back.

“With me, prisoner!” Iris found herself following the young Imperial with the list. He continued to drag her through the chaos and death. The flames incinerated a soldier. Rubble crushed an old man. They came to a relatively clear part of the town and Iris saw Ralof running their way. “Ralof you damn traitor! Out of my way!”

“We’re escaping, Hadvar!” Ralof shouted back. “You’re not stopping us this time!”

“Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngard!” Hadvar let go of Iris and the two men ran towards the keep. The dragon let out another earth shattering roar, and the stone walls of the keep began to crumble.

“Look out!” Iris screamed. The rock seemed to fall slower and slower, and her heart pendant glowed again. A bright flash of pink blinded the three, but they soon saw that a large pink crystal dome surrounded them and the rubble simply fell around it.

“By the nine, what is this?” Ralof gasped, looking around frantically.

Hadvar put a hand to the crystal. “What… what is this? What did you do?”

“I…” The words caught in Iris’s throat. Was this her doing? “I don’t know!”

“Is it some kind of ward?” Ralof suggested. “Not like any ward I’ve ever seen.”

“I said I don’t know!” she cried, turning away from them. Through the pink haze, Iris watched helplessly as the chaos continued to rain down. Every face she knew and every building she called home went up in flames. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sank to her knees. Mara’s mercy, let this be a dream.

“How do we get out of this?” Ralof felt around the wall of the dome before banging on it with his fist.

“Do we want to get out right now?” Hadvar sighed and sheathed his sword. “This may be the safest place.”

Silence filled the small sanctuary, but the muffled sound of destruction seeped through. Soon, the only sound was of crackling flames. Then, all was silent. Darkness fell. Ralof’s axe gave a rhythmic thud as he tried to break the crystal bubble, but to no avail.

“I’ve never seen any magic like this before,” Hadvar mused as he examined the crystal. “Are you a mage?”

“I… I know some healing spells, but that’s it,” Iris said. “I don’t even know a ward.”

Ralof let out a loud grunt as he threw his axe against the crystal. “I can’t break through. Do we start digging?”

“Wait! Something’s happening!” A faint blue light shone through the dome and the crystal began to dissolve. Iris jumped up and backed away as the blue ate away the crystal around them. In the wake of the magic, Iris saw two women around her age, a Redgard and a Breton. The Redgard had a hand held up with the same blue light shining.

“Wow, I didn’t think we’d find any survivors in this!” the Breton exclaimed.

“What happened?” the Redgard asked. With the pink crystal dissolved, the light faded from her hand.

“A dragon attacked,” Ralof said as he picked up his axe. “What are you doing here?”

“We were on our way to Whiterun, but…” The Redgard paused, squinting at Iris. “How did you survive this?”

“I… I don’t know,” Iris admitted. “I saw the rocks falling, and just… the bubble happened.”

The two women exchanged a glance.

“Did you see Jarl Ulfric on your way here?” Ralof asked.

“No, sorry,” the Breton said. “We didn’t see anyone else on the road.”

Ralof sighed. “I suppose we can only wait and see.” He turned to Hadvar. “How about we continue this in the next battle?”

Hadvar sighed. “Fine.” Ralof turned away and began down the road, not looking back. Hadvar paused, however. “You said you were heading to Whiterun? Could you do me a favor?”

“What is it?” the Breton asked.

“Tell the Jarl that Riverwood is in danger,” he said. “Riverwood is completely defenseless against a dragon, and I have family there-”

“Of course we’ll talk to the Jarl!” she replied. “Promise!”

Hadvar smiled. “Thank you, friend. The Legion could use people like you. Our headquarters are in Solitude, if you are interested.” With that, he turned and headed down the road.

Noticing Iris stood still, the Breton asked, “You’re not going with them?”

Iris shook her head. “I’m not a soldier, and… and Helgen was my home… I…” She shut her eyes as a fresh well of tears began to spring. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and Iris saw the redhead Breton smiling softly.

“Come with us, then,” she said, her voice soft with sympathy. “My name is Auriana, and this is Talia.”

“We’ve been looking for you,” Talia explained. “That bubble you created? It’s called crystalmancy.”

“Crystal… what?” Iris repeated.

“Let’s talk on the road,” she said, motioning for the others to follow her. “We should be able to get to Whiterun by dawn.”

“O-okay.” Iris wiped her eyes as she followed with Auriana walking beside her. “I’m Iris, by the way. But… what do you mean you were looking for me?”

“Have you ever heard of a place called Ephedia?” Talia asked.

Iris blinked. “Uh, only as a child, people told us stories where three people could control crystal like it was fire or ice.” She paused. “Wait, Ephedia is real?!”

Aurianna giggled at Iris’s stunned reaction. “It is! I’m actually the princess of the island Volta, and Talia is the princess of Xeris.”

“Ephedia is a large archipelago, and each of the large islands is its own kingdom,” Talia explained. “It’s like Skyrim’s system of holds and jarls, and all the other rulers answer to the king and queen of Ephedia.”

“I… you’re princesses?” Iris stammered as she began to fiddle with her hair. “Then why are you here? How do I fit into this?”

Aurianna’s expression turned solemn. “Twenty years ago, one of the rulers used his power to take over Ephedia. Gramorr. Over the past few years, he ransacked all the other palaces and imprisoned their rulers. Only four of us escaped.”

“His end goal was the Crown of Ephedia,” Talia continued. “It has immense power, but when he first attacked, queen of Ephedia sealed the crown away and scattered the gems that powered the crown. Only the heir to the Ephedian throne can take the crown.”

“At the same time, the heir was sent to live in Tamriel, where most people don’t know or believe Ephedia exists,” Auriana said.

Iris stopped in her tracks. “Twenty years ago… It can’t be…”

“We only recently got to Skyrim, but when we saw that crystal bubble, we knew it was you,” Talia said.

“This is crazy!” Iris cried. “I… I’m a princess? With magic… crystal powers?” Her head spun. “I… I need to sit down.” She promptly flopped onto the ground.

The other women stopped and knelt down beside Iris. Talia placed a hand on her shoulder. “We know it’s a lot to take in, especially with everything that’s happened today.”

“Yeah, and we’re here if you have any questions,” Auriana added.

Iris chuckled. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something on the road.” Talia stood and offered a hand. “You good to walk?”

Iris nodded and took her hand, then they continued down the road.

–

The sun peeked over the horizon by the time they saw the walls of Whiterun. Few guards stood post on the winding walkway to the main gates. As they approached the gates, one guard stopped them.

“Halt. City’s closed with dragons about,” he said.

“You have to let us in, please,” Iris pleaded. “River wood is in danger!”

“River wood is in danger too? The jarl will want to speak with you personally. Let me unlock the gate.” He pulled the key from his belt and unlocked the gate before holding the large wooden door open. “Dragonsreach is up the hill, just follow the path.”

“Thank you!” Iris and the other girls headed in the gate. Even in the light of the early dawn, people hustled about the street going about their business. A circle of shops and vendors sat in the lower section of the town, and Talia stopped the group.

“Before we go any further, we should probably get you some new clothes, Iris,” she said, looking over Iris’s bloody rags.

“Oh, right.” Iris smiled sheepishly and folded her arms over her stomach as she looked at Talia and Auriana’s put together ensembles. “I… I don’t have any money.”

“Oh! I have lots of money!” Auriana pulled her knapsack from her back and held it to her chest. “I took care of a lot of bounties while I was in Windhelm. I got my reward from the steward there, and that means I’d get to see Ulfric!” She smiled brightly. “He’s sooooo dreamy!”

Talia rolled her eyes and Iris giggled. “Thank you,” Iris said. “I’ve never been to Whiterun before, do you know where we could buy clothes?”

“I think this is a general store.” Talia pointed to one of the buildings. “We can pick up some food while we’re there too.”

“Welcome! Let me know if there’s anything you need!” the older Breton said as the three girls walked in.

“Actually, we wanted to know if you had and clothes for sale for our friend here?” Auriana said, pushing Iris towards the counter.

“Let me see,” he said, sizing up the Imperial. “I’ve got just the thing, the latest style from Solitude in just your size, let me go grab it!” The man disappeared into the back room and returned shortly, holding a folded dress. “You can use the back room to try it on, just don’t take anything you don’t plan on buying.”

“Thank you.” Iris took the ensemble and headed into the back room.

“Also, you got any food for sale?” Auriana hopped up to the counter, putting her chin in her hands.

“Got these fresh this morning.”

By the time the two girls picked out a selection of cheese and fruits, Iris emerged wearing the pale red dress with a brown sweetheart bodice. “It fits great, how much?”

“Thirty septims, and I’ll even throw in a pair of boots for five septims,” the Breton said. “You won’t find a better deal anywhere else.”

Auriana began to dig around in her knapsack. “Thirty three… ah, thirty five!” She pulled the coins from her bag and set them on the counter as the shopkeeper handed Iris a pair of brown leather boots.

“Thank you so much, Auriana,” Iris said as she pulled on the boots.

“And thank you for your help, sir,” Talia said to the shopkeeper.

“My pleasure,” he replied, resting his elbows on the counter. “Do come back.”

Outside again, the girls made their way up the hill to the grand palace of Dragonsreach. After a large set of stone steps, they crossed a bridge over a small canal and through the large doors to the interior. Inside the main hall, the ceiling reached up to the sky and two tables with a large firepit between them adorned the main entryway. At the opposite end, the Jarl sat in his throne. As they approached, a Dunmer woman with her blade drawn stopped them.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” she demanded. “Jarl Balgruuf isn’t taking visitors.”

“Please, ma’am, River wood needs the jarl’s help,” Iris said. “It can’t defend itself from dragons.”

The elf squinted at her. “What do you know of the dragons?”

“I was at Helgen,” Iris explained. “Last I saw, the dragon was headed this way.”

“You were at Helgen? The jarl will want to speak to you immediately.” She sheathed her blade and led the girls to the throne.

As the approached, the Jarl looked up. “So you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?”

Iris nodded. “Yes. I managed to escape, but last I saw it was flying in this direction.”

“By Ysmir, Irileth was right!” Balgruuf’s eyes widened and he turned to the well-dressed man beside him. “What do you say now, Proventus, should we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?”

The Dunmer woman stepped forward. “My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It’s in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains-”

“The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!” Proventus interrupted her. “He’ll assume we’re preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him. We should not-”

“Enough!” Balgruuf bellowed, slamming his fist down on the armrest of his throne. “I’ll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”

“Yes, my Jarl,” she said before turning away.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my duties,” Proventus said, giving a respectful nod to the jarl.

“That would be best,” the jarl sighed before turning to the girls. “Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You’ve done Whiterun a service, and I won’t soon forget it.”

“It was our pleasure,” Iris said with a smile.

“If you are willing,” Balgruuf added, “there is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps.”

“What is it?” Talia asked.

Balgruuf stood. “Come, let’s find Farengar, my court wizard, he’s been looking into a matter related to these dragons and… rumors of dragons. He’ll explain it all.” He led the girls to one of the side wings. The wing held a small desk in the center with an alchemy table and enchanting table against the far wall. A tall man in blue hooded robes stood hunched over the enchanting table. “Farengar, I think I’ve found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill them in with the details.”

Farengar turned around and looked the girls over. “So the jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring into my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me.” He folded his arms and paused. “Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not be there.”

“I think you need to work on your word choice,” Auriana said.

“So what exactly are we ‘fetching’?” Talia asked.

“Straight to the point, eh?” Farengar said with a small chuckle. “I, uh, learned of a certain tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a ‘Dragonstone’ said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.”

“Right.” Iris turned to the other girls. “Will you come with me? I’m not sure I can do this myself.”

“Of course we’ll come with you!” Auriana grinned.

“We’ll just have to let one of our friends know,” Talia added. “We were supposed to be meeting her today.”

“It’s settled then!” Farengar began shooing the girls. “Off to Bleak Falls Barrow with you! The Jarl is not a patient man, and neither am I.”

“Wait, where exactly is Bleak Falls Barrow?” Iris asked, sheepishly playing with her hair.

“It’s on the mountain near Riverwood,” he said. “Go there and you can’t miss it.”

With that, the three girls left the palace and climbed back down the hill. With the sun well into the sky, the streets of Whiterun became busier than before.

“Who are you supposed to be meeting here?” Iris asked as they reached the market circle.

“Two others from Ephidia,” Talia said. “We separated to go to the major cities to look for you, but agreed to meet here today. Lyna has been here in Whiterun and Carissa is coming from Markarth.”

“They’re princesses, too! You’ll like them!” Auriana hooked arms with Iris and gave her a squeeze as they entered the local inn, the Bannered Mare.

Inside, Talia approached the bar. “Have you seen our friend? Breton, wears a green charm in her hair?”

“I know who you’re talking about,” the innkeeper replied. “She hasn’t stayed here in a while, but I’ve seen her with the Companions. You should check Jorrvaskr.”

Talia raised her eyebrows. “Really? Where is that?”

“New around here, eh?” She gave a bemused smile. “Up the hill. It’s the large mead hall on the left.”

“Thank you.”

The girls turned to leave the inn and Auriana leaned closer to Iris. “Who are the Companions?”

“They’re like a fighter’s guild,” Iris explained. “They go all the way back to the five hundred companions of Ysgramor, the first human to settle Skyrim.”

“Oooh, Lyna’s making friends!” Auriana cooed. “I hope they’re handsome!”

Iris giggled. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The girls exited the inn and climbed up the hill to the mead hall. Inside, a large dining table stretched the length of the hall. Warriors of various races sat around eating their breakfast. They scanned the room for any sign of Lyna, but with no luck, Talia approached the man sitting closest to the door.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Is Lyna here?”

The man turned around. His striking blue eyes stood out against the black war paint that adorned his face. “Oh, she said she was meeting friends today,” he said in a monotone voice. “She’s out on a job, should be back tomorrow. Wanted me to let you know. I’m guessing one of you is either Talia or Carissa?”

“Talia,” she said, raising her hand. “Thanks, that works out perfectly.”

“No problem,” he replied before turning back to his food.

The three once again returned to the streets of Whiterun. They exited the grand gates and began their journey on the cobblestone road back to Riverwood.

“Iris, before we get to the barrow, do you have any combat experience?” Talia asked.

Iris paused. “Well, uh, I’ve swung an axe at wolves before… okay once. I mostly just know healing spells.”

“Then let’s use this as your first crystalmancy training,” she said. “I’ll show you a few spells and you can practice them on the way.”

“This is going to be fun!” Auriana jumped and clapped her hands. “I’ve never been dungeon delving before! Do you think we’ll find treasure?”

“We’re not looking for treasure, we’re looking for the Dragonstone,” Talia scolded.

“I mean, if we find treasure while looking for the Dragonstone, we can keep it, right?” Auriana clasped her hands together and stared st Talia with her big green eyes.

She let out an irritated sigh. “If it’s something we can carry, it would be foolish to leave it behind.”

“YAY!” Auriana squeaked and ran ahead.

The girls completed the journey quickly, leaving little time for Iris to practice her first spell. Soon, they came to the stone staircase that lead up the mountain to the behemoth ruins.

“Let’s get going,” Iris said, beginning the ascent.


	2. Lyna and the Companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During her search for the Ephedian princess, Lyna joins the ranks of a respected company of warriors.

Lyna didn't know why she would have thought the heir to Ephedia would be in Rorikstead, and now she paid the price for her foolishness by enduring the long walk back to Whiterun. At least she had met a cute farm boy, and hoped she could see him when he came to Whiterun to buy armor. The sun set over the grassy plains, soaking the land in a golden tint. As she passed by the farms that decorated the outer edges of the city, a skirmish caught her eye. Three warriors battled a giant, though neither side had the upper hand. The giant brought its massive club down, knocking two of the warriors to the ground.

Lyna sprinted towards the battle, pulling her chakram ring from her hip. Teal crystal blades formed on the ring across from her grip as she ran. She jumped once - onto the wooden fence - and twice - onto the giant’s back. One arm gripped around the creature’s head as she ripped the blades through its neck. It stumbled for a moment as it bled out, and Lyna jumped from its back before it fell to the ground. The crystal disappeared from her ring as she hooked it back to her hip. As she wiped the sweat from her brow, one of the warriors caught her attention.

"I must say, you handle yourself well,” said the tall Nord woman, folding her arms. “You could make for a decent Shield-Sister." 

“Um, Shield-Sister?” Lyna repeated.

“An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow. Lyna shook her head and the warrior continued, “We’re an order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor, and we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough.”

“Oh!” Lyna’s eyes widened. It wasn’t exactly what she was tasked to do, but a guild of warriors could be as good of an ally as any. “Um, are you accepting new members?”

“Always,” she said. “But it’s not for me to say whether or not you’re Companions material. You’ll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane up in Jorrvaskr. The old man's got a good sense for people. He can look in your eyes and tell your worth. If you go to him, good luck.”

Lyna nodded. “Thank you! I’ll see you there.” Kodlak Whitemane, she repeated to herself. The warriors went their separate ways back to Whiterun. Darkness fell by the time she reached the city proper, and she decided she would visit Jorrvaskr tomorrow. Lyna retired to her room at the Bannered Mare, enjoying a dinner of goat cheese and an apple before drifting off to sleep.  
\--  
In the bright sunshine of the morning, Lyna climbed her way to the famous mead hall. Butterflies crowded her stomach as she stood toe-to-toe with the door. Deep breath. She opened the door only to be greeted by the sounds of shouting and fists on flesh. 

“Keep your hands up!”

“Those fools are actually fighting!”

A crowd formed around a Nord woman and a Dark Elf throwing fists at each other. Lyna watched for a moment before trying to find someone who wasn’t completely enamored in the fight. An elderly woman cleaned part of the table on the opposite end of the commotion, and Lyna approached her.

“Um, excuse me,” she said, getting the woman’s attention. “I’m looking for Kodlak Whitemane?”

“Oh, he's downstairs, dear, at the end of the hall,” she replied, motioning to the stairs.

“Thank you.” Lyna nodded and made her way down the stairs to the sleeping quarters. At the end of the long hall, she saw two men sitting at a small end table. As she approached, she began to overhear their conversation.

"But I still hear the call of the blood,” the younger man said.

“We all do. It is our burden to bear,” replied the older man, folding his arms. “But we can overcome."

The other man sighed. "You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me." As Lyna approached, the white haired man - who she assumed was Kodlak - looked up at her. “A stranger comes to our hall.”

“Hello, I'm Lyna,” she said, giving a small wave. “I was looking to join the Companions.”

"Are you now? Here, let me have a look at you.” Kodlak looked the girl over, stroking his chin in thought before smiling. ”Hm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit." 

The young man beside him glanced at Lyna before turning back to Kodlak with a confused face. "Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?"

Lyna frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “And why not?”

Before he got the chance to respond, Kodlak spoke up. "I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

Vilkas sighed, giving Lyna one last glare before turning back to the old man. "Apologies. But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

 

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame,” Kodlak said. “It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

"And their arm,” Vilkas murmured.

"Of course,” he added before turning back to Lyna. “Now, how are you in a battle, girl?" 

“I've been in my fair share of fights,” she said, nodding and folding her hands together. “I'm still alive so far!”

"That may be so,” he chuckled. “This is Vilkas. He will test your arm. Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do." 

Vilkas nodded before standing up, motioning for Lyna to follow him. “Come on.” She followed in suit through the halls of the living quarters and up the stairs. The main hall had quieted down, and she couldn't help but wonder who had won the fistfight. Vilkas led her back outside to the training yard. A table with various foods sat under the shade of a canopy, and training dummies stood in the sunlight.

“The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this,” Vilkas said, pulling the great sword from his back. “What is your weapon of choice?” Lyna took the chakra ring from her hip and Vilkas squinted at her. “What sort of weapon is that?”

Lyna frowned at the distaste in his voice before forming the crystal blades on the outer edge. “This ring has been in my family since the beginning of our lineage. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand grace in battle.”

Vilkas scoffed. “You won't be very graceful when there's a sword in your chest.”

“Aren't you supposed to be training me?” she huffed with folded arms.

“Right.” Vilkas rolled his eyes before dropping into a battle stance. “Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it." 

Lyna nodded. She stood on the balls of her feet, taking a quick look at his form. Vilkas seemed to favor his right arm, and she spun as she approached him. With the added momentum, she struck the ring at his left side. He blocked with the flat of his sword before pushing her back. Lyna stumbled for only a moment before launching herself at him. With his arms away from his torso, she put all of her weight into shoving the ring into his gut. Vilkas stumbled back, but not enough to give her any advantage. Lyna jumped back before his sword came down, clanking against the ground where she stood moments before. The Nord man was over twice her size, so brute force would do her no good here. 

“Crystal levitus!” she whispered under her breath before leaping into the air. She soared in a perfect arc above the man’s head, turning so she landed facing his back. Before Vilkas could turn around, Lyna used her momentum to leap forward and tackle him. One of her feet pressed to the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. She grabbed onto his dark hair as he went down and pressed the flat end of her chakram ring to the back of his neck. Vilkas crashed face first into the ground with Lyna on his back.

A moment of stillness passed before Vilkas huffed. “Get off of me.”

Lyna stood up and stepped away, brushing off her dress and fixing her hair. “So?”

Vilkas pulled himself up, rubbing the fresh scrape on his chin. "You're quite the agile minx. You might just make it.”

“Ah, thank you!” Lyna smiled and hooked the ring back to her hip. “Does this mean I'm in?”

“You are,” he said. “But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood.” Rather than sheathing his sword, he held the hilt out to her. “So you do what we tell you. Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened.”

Lyna huffed, but she still took the blade, almost dropping it as the weight fully transferred to her.

“Be careful!” he scolded. “It's probably worth more than you are.”

“I doubt that,” she muttered under her breath as she straightened her posture. “Where can I find Eorlund?”

“At the Skyforge,” he replied, pointing to the stone staircase that led up a hill. “Just up there.”

Lyna nodded her thanks before trudging up the stairs. The great forge was nestled in the stone of the hill, and she stared in awe at the ancient structure. An older man stood at the base of the forge, hammering away at the white hot metal. As she approached, he dunked the metal into the trough of water behind him and saw his visitor.

"What brings you here?" he asked as he set the piece down on a nearby table.

“I've got Vilkas’s sword,” Lyna said, holding out the blade. “He said it needed sharpening.”

Eorland chuckled as he took the blade from her shaking hands. "I'm guessing you're the newcomer then?"

“I am,” she replied. After a pause, she rubbed the sore muscles in her hands. “May I ask, do all the newcomers have to do the chores, or is Vilkas just… pleasant?”

“Oh, don't worry too much about it. They were all whelps once,” he said as he took the sword to his grindstone. “They just might not like to talk about it. And don't always just do what you're told. Nobody rules anybody in the Companions." 

Lyna tilted her head. “Really? There's no leader?”

"Well, I'm not sure how they've managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor,” Eorland explained. “Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he's a sort of advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own."

“Well, I should probably leave you to your work,” Lyna said as she started to turn away.

"Actually, I have a favor to ask." The smith stopped the grindstone and stood up, grabbing a shield that sat against the forge. "I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me." 

“Of course!” Lyna took the shield and held it at her side. “I hope your wife feels better soon.”

“Thank you,” Eorland said with a smile. “You’re a good woman.”

Lyna smiled back before taking the shield back down the stone stairs. It took her a brief while to scour Jorrvaskr for Aela, mostly because she didn’t know who Aela was. After asking around, she figured out that Aela was the warrior she met while fighting the giant. After a more focused scour, she found the woman down in the living quarters talking with another older man.

“Aela, right?” Lyna said, approaching once she found a break in their conversation. “Um, Eorland wanted me to bring you your shield.”

"Ah, good. I've been waiting for this.” Aela took the shield, briefly examining it before turning back to Lyna. “Wait... I remember you. So the old man thinks you've got some heart, I guess." 

Before Lyna could reply, the other man spoke up, "You know this one? I saw her training in the yard with Vilkas."

Aela chuckled. "Ah, yes. I heard you gave him quite a thrashing."

"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that," her friend snorted.

“Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?” Aela asked, folding her arms.

Lyna couldn’t help but let out a laugh. In all her time in Tamriel, she never saw any magic that held a candle to Ephedian magic. All it would take is one levitation spell and Vilkas would be completely helpless. The thought made her laugh even more, and it took a moment to realize that Aela and the man were staring at her with cocked eyebrows. Lyna tried to calm herself, blushing heavily. “Um, I don’t like to brag.”

"So, a woman who lets her actions speak for her. I knew there was something I liked about you." Aela grinned. “Here, let's have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head."

“Farkas!” the man called. After a few heavy footsteps, a man with a striking resemblance to Vilkas appeared in the doorway.

"Did you call me?" he asked, his voice gravely and monotone. 

"Of course we did, icebrain,” Aela sighed, exasperated. “Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep."

"New blood?” Farkas said, turning to Lyna. His icy blue eyes light up. “Oh, I remember you. Come on, follow me." She followed him through the halls. "Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they’re good people. They challenge us to be our best." 

“They seem, um, nice,” Lyna said.

"They are, but it’s nice to have a new face around,” he continued, not noticing the uncertainty in her voice. “It gets boring here sometimes. I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life." 

“I think I can handle it.”

"The quarters are up here. Just pick a bed and fall in it when you’re tired." 

They arrived at a mid sized room with six single beds lining the walls. It was less private than the Bannered Mare, but it was free. Over the next few weeks, she learned more of the subtle workings of the Companions. Despite no official leadership, a hierarchy definitely existed. As a whelp, Lyna was at the bottom; just a step above her were the official members: Athis, the Dark Elf king of backhanded compliments; Torvar, who was never sober enough to remember her face; Nadjia Stone-Arm, who made it perfectly clear how poorly she thought of Lyna; and Ria, the only actually nice one. The Members of the Circle - Skjor, Aela, and the twins - handed out the jobs. Kodlak as Harbinger stood at the top of their ranks, though he held himself equal to everyone else. The jobs themselves weren't terribly difficult. Lyna took ones that led to isolated areas as to not draw attention to her crystalmancy; they mostly involved taking care of bandits and bears that had wandered into people’s homes. She took the chance to expand her search for the Ephedian princess, but with no luck. 

One day, Lyna sat eating breakfast outside, minding her own business when Skjor sat before her. “We’ve got a special assignment for you this time, if you’re ready for it.”

Lyna set her tea down. “Oh?”

“Last week a scholar came to us,” he explained. “He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out."

“Wuuthrad?” she repeated with a cocked eyebrow. All these Nord words just sounded the same to her.

“Has no one explained this to you?” the man scoffed, shaking his head. "Wuuthrad is a relic of Ysgramor. Through that weapon, we trace our line straight to the first harbinger of mankind in this land. What fragments we have are displayed in honor, but we always seek more."

Again, more names she couldn’t comprehend. She had heard the name Ysgramor before, yet she couldn’t adequately explain who he was- but to ask for clarification would surely expose her as a foreigner to Tamriel. “And I am to retrieve this fragment?”

“This is a simple errand, but the time is right for it to be your Trial. Carry yourself with honor, and you'll become a true Companion." Skjor stood up. “Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling on this venture, whelp. He'll answer any questions you have. Try not to disappoint. Or to get him killed."

Farkas wasn’t the smartest of the bunch, but he was kind, strong, and not as irritating as his twin, Vilkas. After finishing her breakfast, Lyna found Farkas inside, waiting by the door.

“I hope you’ve readied yourself,” he said, folding his arms.

“I have,” she replied. “You know where we’re heading?”

“Dustman’s Cairn. It’s to the northwest of here.”

“Then let’s not waste any time.”  
\---  
The journey was short enough, and they arrived before midday. From the outside, Dustman’s Cairn looked just like a burial mound, but once inside, she saw that this tomb would extend far underground. The stale air inside reeked of ancient dust and death as she climbed the staircase deep into the ground. They came to a small room with stone coffins lining the walls. The lids had fallen off and the bodies sprawled over the ground, but they looked wrong; the muscle had whittled away to nothing, but the skin still sat taught against the bones.

“Never seen a Draugr before?” Farkas asked, having noticed Lyna’s disgusted expression. “These ones seem to be dead. It’s the sleeping ones you gotta worry about.”

“Sleeping ones?” she repeated. “You mean they’re still alive?”

“Sort of,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know how, but they’re the reason a lot of explorers don’t come back from these places. Shouldn’t be a problem for us.”

“Lovely.” Lyna’s skin crawled. Undead. Great. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They continued down the winding stone pathways. Draugr lined the walls, lying in coffins carved into the stone and propped up against the walls. With every step, she expected the bodies to jump to life and attack. Her chest ached from the anticipation, torn between hoping the bonewalkers stayed asleep and hoping they would wake just so she could get the fight over with. They came to a rather narrow, maze-like area, all still lined with Draugr and burial stones. Lyna led the way, careful to keep her footsteps silent. From behind her, she heard a stone lid crashed against the floor and a horrible garbled groan echoed through the halls. She turned around to see one of the bodies climbing from the coffin. It moved unnaturally, as if it wasn’t used to its own body. The glowing blue eyes unnerved her the most. Breaking into a cold sweat, Lyna grabbed her chakram ring, forming the crystal blades. Before the Draugr could reach her, she threw the ring with the blades swinging. It lodged itself into the body’s neck, sending it flying back. The eyes stopped glowing as its unnatural life faded, and the ring flew back into Lyna’s hand.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” she said, hands shaking as she held her weapon.

“That was only one,” Farkas hummed. “Let’s keep going.”

As they continued through the tomb, fighting the undead remained unnerving, but Lyna successfully managed to fight them off without having to get too close to them; even then, she felt as if she would need a thousand baths after this quest. 

The narrow hallways opened up to a grand room with simple architecture that, once, may have been beautiful. A wood staircase led to the open area with tables along the walls and a throne in the middle. Farkas ran ahead while Lyna took a moment to look around. A room off to the side caught her eye, and she found a chest with a good amount of gold inside. Next to the chest sat a lever; Lyna looked about the room to try and see what the lever would activate, but decided there was only one way to find out. She pulled the lever and behind her a gate slammed shut. “Oh, shoot…”

Farkas ran over to where she was trapped. “Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he scolded. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the release.”

“Thanks, I-” Lyna stopped; she didn’t expect to see any living people in this tomb, but a group of hunters enclosed in on them, weapons drawn. “Farkas, look out!” He jolted around and drew his sword, facing the attackers.

“We knew you’d be coming here,” one of them spat, his sword high in the air. “Couldn’t resist.”

“It’s time to die, dog!” another shouted.

“Which one is that?” a third asked nervously.

“Doesn’t matter. He wears that armor, he dies.”

“Killing you will make for an excellent story.”

“None of you will be alive to tell it,” Farkas hissed.

Lyna gripped the bars of her cage. Six versus one, no way Farkas could handle this on his own. She didn’t want to use her crystalmancy in front of him, but his life was more important than her secret. “Crystal le- huh?”

Farkas dropped his sword and doubled over. His skin grew dark and his form grew larger as his grunts turned into deep growls. He stood again and roared, not as a man, but as some conjoining of wolf and man. The hunters attacked, but they all fell to one swipe of the creature’s massive claws. Lyna jumped away from the gate as the blood sprayed everywhere, and each of the hunters were dead by the time she reached the far wall. Done with the slaughter, the creature ran off and out of sight. Lyna froze. Now she was stuck in a bloody mess with no way out and now no Farkas. Sighing, she approached the gate again and examined the thickness of the bars. Perhaps she could cut through the metal? Before she could start, the gate opened and she jumped back.

Farkas, back to being Farkas, ran up to her. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“What was that?” Lyna raised her eyebrows, backing away from him.

“It’s a blessing to given to some of us,” he explained as he picked up his sword from the ground. “We can be like wild beasts.”

“Are you going to make me a werewolf?” Lyna took a few tentative steps through the shallower pools of blood.

Farkas laughed. “Oh no, only members of the Circle get the beast blood. You’re proving yourself to be a Companion.” He turned towards the next hallway, motioning for her to follow. “‘Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.’ We should keep moving, still got the Draugr to worry about.”

“Right.” She followed him deeper into the tomb. “So, who were those people? They seemed to know… what you were.”

“The Silver Hand,” Farkas explained. “They hunt people like us; been after the Companions for years.”

Lyna kept quiet. During her travels, she’d heard stories of those with the beast blood; they were mostly horrifying. Still, she couldn’t imagine Farkas committing those unwarranted atrocities. Sure, he was a fearsome warrior, but he had honor. Did the beast have a mind of its own? 

As Lyna and Farkas continued towards the main chamber of the tomb, the fighting became a three-way free-for-all between them, the Silver Hand, and the Draugr. Thankfully, Farkas kept his human form during these skirmishes. After leaving a trail of bodies, both fresh and decayed, the pair reached a room untouched by the Silver Hand. The grand chamber stood with high ceilings and stone coffins packed against the walls. In the center stood a lone sarcophagus beside a table. Lyna approached the table and she saw the small ebony fragment on a pedestal. It seemed odd, so much effort and bloodshed for such a small thing. She reached out to take the fragment, but the silence shattered as the stone lids crashed to the floor. Lyna spun around, watching in horror as one by one, over a dozen Draugr climbed out of their stone prisons.

Farkas readied his blade. “This is gonna be good.”

Chaos erupted. Steel clashed on steel in a desperate attempt to grab the upper hand. Lyna’s muscles screamed in protest as she pushed herself harder to drive back the bonewalkers. They came in never-ending waves, and she found herself backed against the ancient walls. She couldn’t see Farkas through the sea of enemies. 

Lyna had no plans to die at the hands of shambling corpses. Her knuckles whitened around her ring, and it glowed with a faint green light.

“Crystal Differo!”

She launched the ring into the melee of undead, and it bounced from draugr to draugr, encasing them in a green crystal at the moment of contact. The moment the ring bounced back into Lyna’s hand, the crystal shattered and left the undead permanently dead. With the bodies fallen to the ground, she could see Farkas frozen in mid-swing of his greatsword. 

“That… was easier than I thought,” he murmured, blinking rapidly as he sheathed his weapon. “Huh, I underestimated you.”

Lyna just grinned.  
\--  
It was deep into the night before they returned to Jorrvaskr. Kodlak and the members of the Circle stood ready to greet them, torchlight illuminating the training grounds as Lyna stood facing the respected warriors.

"Brothers and Sisters of the Circle,” Kodlak proclaimed, “today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has showed her valor. Who will speak for her?"

Farkas stepped forward. "I stand witness for the courage of the soul before us."

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?"

"I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us." Farkas spoke to the Circle, but his gaze stayed on Lyna.

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes."

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

"I would lead the song in triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories." Lyna found herself blushing at his kind words.

"Then this judgment of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with the fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers.” Kodlak raised his torch. “Let it beat with ours, so the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

The others raised their torches in unison. "It shall be so."  
\--  
A few days passed before Lyna received another assignment, this time a cryptic request from Skjor.

“I have something a little different planned this time,” he said, his voice low. "But it's not for everyone to hear. Meet me in the Underforge tonight. We will speak more."

The sun fell and the moons rose into the sky. Lyna left the warm halls and walked across the cold stone to the base of the great forge. Skjor already stood by the ancient rock face.

"Are you prepared?" he asked, his voice stern but eager.

“Yes,” she started as she looked about her surroundings. “But what exactly is this place?”

"Here's all you need to know,” Skjor started. “Jorrvaskr is the oldest building in Whiterun. The Skyforge was here long before it was. And the Underforge taps an ancient magic that is older than men or elves.” He pressed a hand against the rock, and a the slab swung open to show a dark passageway. “We bring you here to make you stronger, new blood. This is a gift. Now let's move."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey I know it's been almost a year. Life and depression got intense, but hopefully I'm back in the swing of things. Enjoy!! If you've got any questions about lore, ideas, or just anything, drop by my tumblr, javertthejollywriter

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thank you for reading! I’ve been really excited about working on this for a while and I’m happy to have the first part done! The next two chapters will be about Lyna and Carissa’s adventures up until this point. After that, there will be more dragons, the twins, and adventures all around. If you want to talk headcanons, feel free to send an ask to javertthejollywriter.tumblr.com


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